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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22986556">My my how the tables have tables</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kekgirl21/pseuds/Kekgirl21'>Kekgirl21</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Devil Wears Prada (2006)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, Fluff, as slow as i can, slowburn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:48:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>10,640</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22986556</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kekgirl21/pseuds/Kekgirl21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Okay, so this is all that I like in a story combined, a Mirandy Frankenstory of some sorts. It’s not original but whatever i just like to play around with these two.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Miranda Priestly/Andrea Sachs</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>87</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I know, Miranda doesn’t trust me. She’s not the one to trust someone easily, that much is clear. It’s been a few months now, that I’ve been working for her, its not a walk in the park, but im managing it. Actually the other day i did something right. I know that, because Miranda didn’t even raise an eyebrow at my stupidity. </p><p>Ive been watching her face like my life is depending on it, and in a way it is. I know her fine lines that appear on her face if she is displeased how she turn her head to the side just a little bit, when shes listening to something she likes. I can sense when she needs a cup of coffee and I’ve actually have a short key on my phone, so i can alert Sabine down at the Starbucks. </p><p>That stylish barista gave me her number after I broke down several times in a row, because the cue was so long I’d never make it back to Miranda in time. The place was filled with people like me, anxiously waiting for their time to get to the counter to place and order for a waiting boss. Desperate for a smile or a nod or anything that gives validation on what they are actually doing. </p><p>But they didn’t work for Miranda Priestly. The Miranda Priestly. I do. And after i received that number my life had improved a bit. I can now deliver the coffee so hot, that Miranda hat been burned. It was a small victory for me, until she called me into her office and dictated her notes even faster than usually. </p><p>I know her face better than mine. I cant read her mind of course, but in some aspects i come pretty close. She’s my first thought when i wake up and to go to sleep I’ve been going over her schedule over and over. Nate doesn’t like it, he thinks I’m overworking. He might be right, but it doesn’t feel like overworking. </p><p>„I’m doing this for us, babe.“, I tell him for the third time this week, giving his scratchy cheek a small kiss and ultimately leaving our cozy apartment, to head to work. </p><p>I started taking an Uber to work, instead of the subway, its faster and I can afford it. </p><p>Nate wanted to got to Europe with the money, but why would I leave for Europe.</p><p>When i get out of the car, I can see a small group standing in front of the large building. They must be protesting again, I eye them suspiciously, i hope they don’t disturbed miranda in her way over. </p><p>And right as i enter the building, my heels clicking on the floor, i hear a scream. </p><p>I turn around and see the mop of people running towards a slender figure. It’s Miranda. </p><p>I bolt outside, and ,to my horror, i see them throwing tomatoes. Their voices scream „Down with the industry.“, in all kinds of tones. Angry most of all. </p><p>And then the first tomato hits Mirandas fur. And the next and next and she just-walks. She struts down the pavement like its a runway her face unmoved as i run towards her and when i finally reach her, she looks at me, through her sunglasses, and starts to bark orders. Her voice shows how she feels a bit more then her posture, but i cant quite place it, without seeing her eyes. </p><p>The security has finally reached the protesters, shoving them into a police car.<br/>
They wont be working for anyone else, that much is clear. </p><p>„Miranda, are you okay.“, i ask quietly, as i push open the door for her. </p><p>„Why wouldn’t I be.“, she takes of her sunglasses and her eyes are cold as steal. </p><p>She heads to the elevator without hesitation and if I hadn’t seen what happened I’d have thought it would be a normal Monday morning. But it isn’t. </p><p>She enters the elevator, and i press the button for another one, it has been one of the first lessons i learned, never enter the elevator if Miranda is in there. </p><p>„Get in here.“, she hisses, and just before the door closes i jump into the lions cave. </p><p>„I contacted the security for you, they’ll send a body guard to guide you from your car to the elevator.“, i tell her quickly. I want her to have some peace. </p><p>„Nonsense.“, she shakes her head. </p><p>„But-“, i start, but she stops me with a look.</p><p>„But what.“, she scrolls, „I do not need protection. From what.“</p><p>„From those people.“, I want to cry, she is so stubborn, that has been one of the first things i noticed about her. </p><p>The elevator opens, only to reveal a person already turning around, jumping to get another elevator. </p><p>I look at Miranda with something in my eyes. I cant place this feeling of, maybe worry. </p><p>For my job of course, i worry about my job. Not for Miranda. </p><p>„They could have hurt you.“, I whisper, just to emphasise my point, I dont know why she doesn’t want protection, everyone around here has at least one, sometimes two bodyguards. </p><p>„At least.“, she turns around as I speak,“Let me pick you up from your car.“, i gulp. Why is she staring at me. </p><p>The elevator pings our stop and she exists. As I hurry behind her she looks at some clothes that are shown by a nervous woman. </p><p>And she leaves without saying anything, she heads towards the office. I catch the woman exhaling with glee, no words are indeed better then a remark. </p><p> </p><p>„Emily.“, she calls me into her office and I struggle to get to my feet. </p><p>I know her face, her needs and wishes. And she somehow cant even remember my name.</p><p> </p><p> That’s how it is around here.</p><p>She sits at her desk behind the newspaper and lowers it very shortly. </p><p>„If you are late tomorrow morning ill fire you.“</p><p>And for one second her lips move, in something that could resemble a smile, if you looked very very closely. </p><p>Not that i wanted to look closely at her lips. </p><p>„That’s all.“, she waves her hand and i stumble outside. </p><p> </p><p>The rest of the day is exhausting and when i get home my mind if full of tasks, that I<br/>
have to do. </p><p>„Did you listen.“, Nate wakes me up from my work day dream, flipping a pancake for both of us.</p><p>„I did.“, I hadn’t. Not that what he says is not important to me, but my mind is filled with dates and calls I have to do. </p><p>„What did i just say.“, He seems annoyed. </p><p>„I-uh.“</p><p>„Yeah, thats what I thought.“, he stands up.</p><p>„You are distracted.“</p><p>„I know.“, i sigh. „Miranda.“- but he interrupts me </p><p>„Miranda, Miranda, its always her isn’t it?“, he is raising his voice now, something we never do. </p><p>„Don’t you love me anymore?“, his voice cracks now bit. </p><p>„Of course i do.“, i say, and i want to get up and hug him  and tell him how much I love him, but right as I do my phone rings. </p><p>„Im so sorry Nate, i have to take this.“, I know if I get on the phone now its over but I have to. It’s my job. </p><p>Nates takes a deep breath as I pull my phone out. </p><p>„Don’t you dare take this.“, his voice is deep and full of hate. </p><p>„I’m sorry.“, my eyes well up, I cant help it. </p><p>„Miranda?“, i say quietly as i turn around. I cant bare to look at his face right now.<br/>
I know i hurt him with this. </p><p>„Andrea, get me my bag out of the office.“, the line is dead after that. </p><p>„I’m sorry Nate. I have to go to the office.“</p><p>„Andy.“, disappoint melts out of his eyes into the room.</p><p>But i already have made up my mind. „Ill be back soon.“, i reach for a kiss, but he turns away. </p><p>„Okay.“ and somehow i hope I come back and he’s gone, so we dont have to deal with this. Whatever this is. But deep down I know, hell just be asleep on the couch, and in a few days well be back to normal. And as I cry in the car to the office I try to figure out why I don’t want that anymore .</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When i enter the townhouse the smell of laundry detergent hits me, the hall must have been cleaned recently by the maid. I, very quietly, step to the small table, where i usually lay the book down and place the handbag carefully not to make a sound.</p>
<p>„Emily.“, Her deep voice calls for me from the kitchen. This has happened a few times in the last few months and as one can’t be prepared for anything in this house my heartbeat picks up a little. </p>
<p>„Here you go, Miranda.“, I give her the bag, sliding my fingers down to the far end of the handle of the leather purse, so our fingers wont touch. </p>
<p>She has wrapped herself in a smooth looking shawl, that nearly perfectly matches her hair in colour and texture. How can fabric look so smooth, i wonder.</p>
<p>Her eyes dont meet mine, as expected and she waves her hand in my general direction and I just wait for her to dismiss me with her usual words, but she waits for a few moments, as if she has something to say. </p>
<p>My mind goes back to this morning, and how truly in shock she must be. </p>
<p>Her face shifts, turning icy again.</p>
<p>„What are you still doing in my kitchen?“, she scrolls.</p>
<p>„Right.“, I step back. „Sorry, Miranda.“</p>
<p>I turn to leave, but she says quietly:“ Roy will be at the office at 8 sharp. I expect you to be down  there with my coffee.“ </p>
<p>I nod, smiling again and leave her house. </p>
<p>Elevator it is. I feel better knowing she at least considers my concern for her safety. <br/>My jobs safety that it. Not hers. What am I thinking.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When I return  home Nate is asleep on the couch, as I expected. I slip of my heels and sneak into the bedroom. Tomorrow Ill have to make it up to him, to try to safe this relationship.</p>
<p>We’ve been struggling for a long time now, but I still love him. He’s like a brother to me. </p>
<p>Im too sleepy to recognise what thought just crossed my mind and I fall into a deep sleep, that only gets disrupted by my way to loud alarm. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>My morning routine is pretty much the same every day. I get up, shower, make my coffee, pick out an outfit, that Nigel has given me, get dressed and do my makeup, as I down the coffee as quickly as I can, then run off to work. On most days Nate tries to feed me some sort of breakfast but i decline. </p>
<p>Today the apartment is empty, I assume Nate has some work to do as well. </p>
<p>I stand in front of the building shivering in the morning cold, as I wait for Miranda. </p>
<p>No protesters to be seen, but one can never be safe. <br/>In my mind I go over her schedule again and a again, I absolutely do not want to forget anything today. </p>
<p>Her car pulls up and Roy opens her door with one smooth motion. </p>
<p>Everyone near her turns and watches as she gets out of her car. It’s like watching a miracle. Or a car accident. You just cant look away. Her steps are with so much force, the world seems to bend down under her. </p>
<p>I hurry towards her and she slaps he black bag at me.</p>
<p>Today her waist is hugged by a big belt, while a long black skirt draws my eyes to her legs. How in the world does she do this. I hand her a rain cape, without looking at me she pulls it over her coat and I cant explain how she makes it look fashionable.</p>
<p>While we walk towards the glass door she doesn’t say anything and everything goes smooth, until we’ve made about half of the way. </p>
<p>Out of nowhere people start to throw vegetables. </p>
<p>I take her hand and pull her at a fast paste towards the entrance. When we reach the big glass door i let go of it, as if it has burned me, but mainly because its so soft and I didn’t want to notice it. </p>
<p>She pulls of her plastic cape and hands it to me as well. My clothes are practically ruined, but she looks perfect as ever. </p>
<p>„Get yourself cleaned up.“, she enters the elevator and i step next to her. </p>
<p>„Yes Miranda.“, I smile. </p>
<p>„And pack one of these capes for yourself next time. Don’t ruin more clothes.“, her eyes travel down my body for a short second, just to take in what these people have ruined. </p>
<p>I look good. I know it. Her upper lip twitches for a split second, and I know she approves of my choice. Head to toe in Chanel. </p>
<p>If I had to guess, I’d say Chanel is her favourite. It’s something she’d never tell anyone, that would ruin her. Miranda can’t pick a favourite, but something about her changes in Chanel. She carries herself differently, if that’s even possible. Sometimes she strokes the fabric of a Chanel dress that she seems to like. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>As Miranda heads out to Lunch Serena, a friend of some sorts of Emily, storms in. </p>
<p>„You won’t believe it.“, she whispers into the room,“is she gone?“, looking around with a grin on her face, she pulls out a picture.</p>
<p>Emily stops her frantic typing and gasps:“ oh my, Serena where did you get that.“, there is something in her look now that stops me dead track. </p>
<p>„What is it.“, I try to see what they hold between them.</p>
<p>„Andrea, you Are far to prudish to see this, O I love this.“, my coworker now sounds a bit like the Hyenas from the Lion King. </p>
<p>„Come.“, Serena smacks Emily’s arm,“You look like you need some fun too.“ I walk towards them and Serena lays an old photograph into my hands. </p>
<p>The sepia colours make it difficult to completely understand what it’s showing, after a few seconds I do make out two women, one slender figure sitting on a tall, brunettes lap, one arm around her neck, one hand placed very high up her thigh. </p>
<p>I study the face. „Is that,“ I pause,“ that can’t be right?“</p>
<p>It’s Miranda. With a women? Serena takes the small paper away and smiles. </p>
<p>„Told you shes far to stuck up to get it.“, Emily winks at her.</p>
<p>„Well, toodles Prudence“, she raises her eyebrow in my direction,“Em, I’ll see you later.“</p>
<p>And with that she’s left. </p>
<p>I try to forget about the picture. Maybe it was just a friend and they were very close. <br/>Maybe it wasn’t Miranda but her long lost sister. </p>
<p>Maybe- I stop as Miranda enters the building again. </p>
<p>„Is there a reason my Coffee isn’t here?“, how can she sound so angry without raising her voice in the slightest. </p>
<p>„No Miranda.“, I get up and call the Starbucks. 3 minutes and a few seconds later I’m back and my feet hurt. </p>
<p>When I enter her office she looks at me. Her eyes are so blue. The photography flickers before my eyes. I push it away as far as possible and blame it on the little sleep I got this night. </p>
<p>She takes the coffee for me and thinks for a moment, her finger tapping her lips. My eyes are glued to them and it takes the force of a horse to get me to look away. </p>
<p>„Take your coat, we are visiting Chanel today.“, she turns the chair around and I stumble down. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>There are a few rules when it comes to Mirandas language. When she likes something she nods. When she’s bored she blinks more then usual. And when she hates something she purses her lips. </p>
<p>Today we sit on a creme sofa and I feel completely unprepared. The design team is explaining things but Im unable to listen. The couch is too small for all of us to sit on comfortably, so I had stood in a corner, waiting with my notepad, but Miranda had moved her head to indicate that I should come over. </p>
<p>„Sit.“, her hand wrung around her slender wrist. </p>
<p>I walked to the other end of the sofa. </p>
<p>„No. here.“, now a finger pointed on the spot next to her. </p>
<p>And so I sit next to her and my knee almost touches hers. I can feel her body next to me and it’s turning me on and I need to concentrate damn it. </p>
<p>„That’s why we chose to create a lingerie line.“, the left designer with the funny hat finishes. Wait. What. </p>
<p>„Note what I like.“, Miranda says quietly. I gulp. What she likes?</p>
<p>Miranda’s eyes are fixated on the models. She takes them in and I take in her expression. I goes smoothly for the most part, I try not to think about the weird feeling between my legs and she’s pleased with the results. </p>
<p>The last model that comes out wears a revealing set. The rest had been very reserved and almost matronly, but this one has cut outs and mesh and my eyes travel up and she’s wearing the biggest choker, I’ve ever seen. They have bound her hands behind her body. I look at Miranda and I cant read her expression. </p>
<p>It’s something new. Her eyebrows are both raised, her lips pressed together ever so slightly, and when the model turns around and reveals a heart shaped cutout in the bottom piece, I can see a blush ever so slightly creeping up her neck. </p>
<p>I note it. And then my leg twitches and bumps against hers. She snaps around and I mumble a quietly apology. </p>
<p>„Tell them to send me the one I liked.“, she tells me and leaves.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh pls tell me what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>One of the harder things regarding my job is deciding what to do. Will I send her the set that I knew she kind of liked? I could send her the pink one and would be sure she liked it. But that would be playing it safe. </p><p>„Send her the pearl white one.“, I tell the Assistent at the desk. Then, without thinking I add:“ and pack up the last one, make it quick.“</p><p>When you want to be efficient, you can’t chitter chatter around, and my time is limited. I know I have to book her appointments for this week before coming back and she will be back at home right now. </p><p>A sleek box is handed to me and I head off to wait for the book. Emily is long gone, and I sit around waiting for some noise that would tell me I can now call my taxi. </p><p>The box sits on my table, I have been toying with the edges for a while now. Maybe just a look. </p><p>I slip my fingers under the lid, and slowly open the box. I know I shouldn’t be doing this, if someone saw me looking at her stuff I’d be fired faster then I could say Gucci. </p><p>The pieces are wrapped by silky paper and my fingers glide over the fabric for a short second. The bra and panties are basically non existing, mesh and silk are supposed to not really cover the body, the fabric is nearly aubergine. My mind is slipping, I see a picture of her in this before my own eyes. </p><p>Suddenly I slap the box closed. These thoughts are entirely not me. I can’t believe I just did that. </p><p>„Six.“, Nigel calls me and I shoot up, my face burning. </p><p>„The book is ready.“, he hands me the heavy object and I have to take a deep breath. </p><p>„Are you alright, darling?“, he looks genuinely concerned. </p><p>„I.um“, if I could talk about this I wouldn’t. „Yes I’m fine.“, he smiles at me.</p><p>„Go get this going, Tiger.“, he winks at me and leaves the room. </p><p>The key in my hand now feels awfully warm. <br/>Should I give her the box? What if I interpreted her all wrong and she really hated it. <br/>No. I won’t doubt myself in this. She wanted me to bring her what she liked, so I’ll deliver it to her, that is my job. </p><p>I enter the hall quietly and drop of the book, hang the dry cleaning and just wait for her to call me into the kitchen. But after I place the devilish box on a side table, I don’t hear anything, so I leave. I don’t know if I had hoped to see her or not. </p><p>When I come back, people are walking in and out of my apartment. </p><p>„Nate? What is going on?“, I meet his eyes. </p><p>„I’m moving out for a bit, Andy. I need a break.“, his eyes tear up, but he is standing strong in the doorway. </p><p>„You can’t do this, Nate.“, I sound like a whiny child. „I love you.“, my body leans towards him, but he moves aside. </p><p>„I’m not so sure about that, Andy.“, he looks apologising aside and after minutes they have packed everything, that he owns. „You should get your stuff figured out first.“</p><p>„See you around.“, he looks back once but then the door closes behind him and I’m alone. </p><p>A few months back I would have cried my eyes out and eaten an unholy amount of Ice cream, but I’m weirdly unfazed by it. He deserves the domestic housewife he wants, but I won’t be a part of that. </p><p>I sleep a bit better without him snoring and when I wake up I’m not greeted by greasy food, but by delicious silence. Maybe it was time that he left. </p><p> </p><p>The protesters face a new front of police men now. Miranda and I get to the building without anything hitting us and I’m thankful for that. My new Prada boots cling to my legs and I would have been mortified if I had slipped. </p><p>Miranda had replaced her raincoat with a Trenchcoat that covered her outfit. </p><p>„And after that you will have coffee with Valentino.“, I finish my morning prediction of the coming day. </p><p>We step into the elevator and im still nervous about riding with her. She smells differently today. She is 24/7 covered in some super special scent, that us mortals can’t even buy, but today it’s Chanel. I recognise the smell, for I had a sample bottle.</p><p>She pulls of her coat and hands it to me. My eyes shut down as I register what she is wearing. </p><p>As I look down I notice the stockings first. They are seamed and my eyes roam further. These were practically designed to do exactly that. Her pencil skirt clings to her like it’s life depends on it. I try not to gasp out loud. Her blouse is sheer. </p><p>Not see through. No. Sheer. And she is wearing the bra underneath. Exactly the one. The purple against her milky skin making me weak. My knees buckle slightly, I lean against the wall and close my eyes. If I had opened them, I would have noticed her eyes on my, looking through the mirror on the elevator wall. </p><p>My day has turned to literally hell, after that. <br/>I run around the office, trying to catch up with all of my tasks, while my mind is deep into the gutter. </p><p>She had send Emily , instead of me, so I stare at her every time she crosses my way. </p><p>„Six.“, Nigel calls after me. „Come here, have a cup of coffee.“, I shake my head. </p><p>„No time.“, I want to go, but he pulls me into his office. </p><p>„Nonsense.“, shoving a cup in my hands he grins. </p><p>„So why are we blushing all day. You haven’t gotten anything done today.“</p><p>I look away. „It’s nothing. I swear.“, right as I want to get rid of him with so,einsortierten of stupid lie, Miranda walks by the window and she just stops my thought process. </p><p>I blush, my eyes glued to her breasts. You can’t see anything, she had done something to cover anything inappropriate, but ones mind can just fill in the blank. This look doesn’t leave anything for the imagination. </p><p>„Oh.“, Nigels eyes wide. „Ohhhhhh.“, he starts to smirk. </p><p>„I see how it is.“, he pats my shoulder. </p><p>„No, it’s not what you think. I’m just sleep deprived.“, I try to defend myself. </p><p>„Don’t worry six.“, he shoves me out of his office. <br/>„Your secret save here.“, he closes the door and somehow I don’t believe that. </p><p> </p><p>I get called into the office. </p><p>„Order that coffee table that I saw last week.“, she stands leaning against her table. </p><p>„Yes Miranda.“, I look down, not meeting her eyes or face. Or body for all that it is.</p><p>„Andrea. Look at me when I’m talking.“ </p><p>I look up, stare in her general direction. </p><p>„I said.“, she clenches her jaw. </p><p>„Look. At. Me.“, she raises her chin even higher, mocking me nearly with her eyebrows. </p><p>I look at her, still avoiding her eyes.</p><p>„Yes Miranda. I’m sorry Miranda.“</p><p>„This Morning you were much better at that.“, she mutters and shakes her hand. </p><p>I blush deeply. My face nearly bursts, as I shuffle my feet. </p><p>„That’s all.“, she chimes, a small smirk appearing on her lips. </p><p>I stumble outside, „fuck.“ I whisper to myself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Emily delivers the book tonight so I have time to sleep. It feels like I haven’t slept in three years.</p><p>My back hits the bed and I close my eyes, concentrating on the darkness and my relaxing body. </p><p>My hands slide down beside me, as my mind drifts off.</p><p>Her voice echoes in my ears. “This Morning you were much better at that”.</p><p>I’m to tired to actually react to my brain’s attempt to get my attention, and I fall asleep for a few moment. </p><p>I wake up sweating and with a throbbing feeling between my legs. </p><p>What time was it. I look at my phone, it’s 4:24. Thank god. One more hour to sleep.<br/>
When I try to lay back my body screams, the dream I had must have taken its toll on my body, so without much thought I slide my hand between my thighs. </p><p>As soon as I move my fingers I see her backside, the milky skin in purple. It must be beyond anything to leave a mark on that. </p><p>My eyes snap open, I retract my fingers from my centre. I had not thought about her in that way. This was all wrong. </p><p>I groan, getting up way to early to take a cold shower, but the feeling doesn’t leave. </p><p>It grows and grows the longer I keep my fingers away, but I won’t touch myself thinking about her. This has to wait until my madness had cured itself. </p><p>On the way over the pavement my thighs meet with every step and when I see her exit her car I can’t help it but stare. </p><p>It should be illegal to look like that. </p><p>Her skirt is tiny. It’s so short I do not understand how she had not just flashed half of New York. Her coat hangs open and her torso I covered fully, the only skin you can see is her legs. But oh what legs. </p><p>I try to tear my eyes away, remembering her remark from yesterday. </p><p>When we enter the building I hold open the door and she walks in front of me. </p><p>Her backside moves with every step she makes. I hadn’t help but look. What else am I supposed to do otherwise. </p><p>“Andrea, at least try to keep your eyes up.”, she sneers in the elevator, but a blush had formed on her cheeks. </p><p>I wonder when someone had desired her the last time I do. </p><p>Oh shit. I just thought it. I desire her. </p><p>“I.”, the elevator bings and we start our day, her with her head held high and me with deep red cheeks and a confused mind.</p><p> </p><p>“Andrea, get me Sandra. And tell Nigel I need his assistance with the next shoot.”, I complete the task within minutes and try to concentrate. Emily and I had been granted the big one. We needed to organise her visit to a new benefit. </p><p>That sounds simple, but in Miranda’s world each task was filled with riddles and secrets. No flowers of some sorts and certain people were banned from her list, so we had to make sure they would not attend. It was Emily’s job to later actually go the the event and run after Miranda while she passed around the room for a few minutes and then left. </p><p>I look up from my notes, that I scribbled down.<br/>
A thigh has been placed on my desk. A white, perfect leg. My eyes shoot up, Miranda is actually sitting on my table right now. Emily seems to have been gone out.</p><p>“Someone needs to learn penmanship.”, she looks down on my notes, as if they were some sort of disease. </p><p>“It’s actually quite good, if I’m not rushed.”, I blabber. I know it. </p><p>She raises one eyebrow. Miranda hates blabbering. </p><p>“Get me my coat.”, she stands up, her skirt rises even further, another inch and I’ll have to close my eyes. I flush deeply and try to think about anything, but her. </p><p>I hold out her garment, a silky coat, hand stitched by overachieving adults I guess, but she doesn’t take it from me. </p><p>She just holds out her hands and waits. </p><p>My mind races. She never does that.<br/>
“Do you want me to help you?”, I ask. </p><p>“That’s your job, Andrea.”, she looks me straight into the eyes. </p><p>I move quickly. Her left arm slides into the coat, her right struggling only for a moment.<br/>
She turns around. </p><p>Seven small buttons are supposed to hold it together, I notice while she just stares, with her incredible blue eyes.</p><p>My hands shake, while I step towards her. I get the first button, the small thing feeling cold against my fingertips, that burn.</p><p>The second one is near her collarbones, the third further down. Oh god. I give my best not to touch her, not in any way. Only closing the button. If she can hear my heart racing, I’ll fling myself off a bridge.</p><p>When I reach the one closest to her breasts, I exhale with a bit more force that I should have. My breathing is almost like I ran a marathon. It feels like I’m not even in my body right now, I watch myself blushing as I finish the last button. When I look back up I meet her eyes. She had been staring me the whole time. If I had looked up while I fumbled with the buttons I would have seen her nostrils flare. </p><p>“Bring the book tonight.”, she snaps around and leaves me behind, to wait. </p><p>When I enter the townhouse it’s dark and quite. I finish my job and go home. </p><p>Sleep doesn’t come easy tonight. How dare she do this.</p><p>“Do you think she does this on purpose?”, I finish the story. Nigel had called just after I gave up on sleeping. He had listened and probably nodded along, while I told him what happened. He seemed to be the only one who understands this. </p><p>“I don’t know, six.”, he laughed. “I don’t know anything about this woman.”</p><p>He paused for a quick sip of wine. “I’m glad you told me.” </p><p>I tear up. My shoulders are tight suddenly. This had been a lot. To even allow myself to consider the possibility that I might have a sexual attraction towards her. A woman.<br/>
No not just a woman. The woman.</p><p>I exhale loudly. “I can’t believe I said that. If you tell anyone<br/>
I’ll visit you at night and let’s just say Emily might get a promotion.”</p><p>“How did you know you were gay?”, I ask quietly, after sitting in silence for a short while.</p><p>“I put on my moms heels and danced to ABBA in front of the mirror.”, he laughed and through the phone carried his genuine melody of happiness. </p><p>“You’ll figured it out. Just be careful.”</p><p>I sit in silence for a long time after that. </p><p> </p><p>The next day I wake up on my couch, my back hurts and I nearly missed my alarm. I stumble to work, but not without double checking my outfit. Somehow it had gotten important to look my best each morning, just not to displease her. </p><p>The crowed hat gotten smaller today, so the look in her eyes is slightly amused as we hurry across to the elevator. The god damn elevator. I can smell her when I stand in front of her. I close my eyes, trying hard not to look into the mirrored walls. Her neckline is one of the most becoming on her, black, deep, nearly off shoulder. Her skin radiates the same energy as the mood, silver and glowing. </p><p>She sips her Starbucks I brought her. The coffee mixes with her deep rich parfume and creates something that wraps around you. I feel her shifting, while the elevator moves upward and I open my eyes again, just to take a quick look into the mirror. Just to know what she is doing.</p><p>She had moved closer and her eyes are roaming my body. She might kill me. Or worse, Fire me. </p><p>She looks away as fast as light travels, when she notices my eyes in the reflection. </p><p>“Get me Stephen on the phone.”, why is her voice so quiet. </p><p>Oh right, how could I have forgotten. She has a husband. My mood drops, like her bag on my table for me to put away. </p><p>“Emily, contact my Lawyer, I need a meeting on 9:30. Not sooner, not later.”, she snaps. Her mood seems to be as low as mine. </p><p>“Divorce number 3.”, Emily mumbles, after Miranda has left. </p><p>“Do you really think so?”, I ask her in a mumbled voice. </p><p>“The last time she asked me the same thing.”, Emily types furiously.<br/>
“It was a shit show, now let me work, they won’t cooperate.”</p><p>A divorce. Oh god, that would make our life to hell. Why did she even marry this man, this regular, white man. He’s not even attractive. </p><p>“You are spiralling six.”, Nigel calls me out, before she can. </p><p>“Is it true?”, I ask him. </p><p>“Can’t say anything.”, he nods nevertheless. </p><p>My heart skips a beat. Foolish heart. Foolish me. </p><p>Emily comes out of her office, fuming. </p><p>“Andrea.”, she calls me in. </p><p>“Yes.”, I cling to my notepad. </p><p>“You’ll accompany me to the benefit, Emily is far to incompetent for that very important task. Ask Nigel to give you something to wear. Do not.”, she pauses for dramatic purposes, I assume, “disappoint me.”</p><p>“Yes Miranda.”, I nearly sink to my knees. </p><p>“That’s all.”, she dismisses me. </p><p>There is so much more to a benefit, then just wearing pretty dresses. I have now 48 hours to learn trivia about every attending person and their dates. </p><p>Nigel sends for me, and I run around the office like a chicken. I do not have the time to select a dress.</p><p>“This is big.”, his grin is wider than my disbelief. </p><p>“Try this on.”, he holds out a garment. </p><p>When I look in the mirror I can’t help but smile. </p><p>“No.”, the man shakes his head. “Not what I was looking for.”, I take the dress off. </p><p>“Nigel I don’t have the time.”, I whine, this is getting out of hand. </p><p>“You want her to notice you, right?”, he winks, and hands me another one. </p><p>It’s simple, yet when I put it on I gasp. The neckline deeper than the Grand Canyon, the back is bare and when I turn you can see a chain holding the dress together. Nothing more. </p><p>“Perfect.”, he mumbles and hands me shoes that fit for once. </p><p>It hits the floor, so my legs are covered.</p><p>“This dress was pretty much made for you.”, I turn to the side. </p><p>“No one without the whole boob thing could wear this, and you are the only one with those.”, he points them out, “around here.”</p><p>I smile. This is going to be hell on Earth, but at least I’ll look the part.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yey, thank you for reading! Let me know what you think!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Oh slight mention of assault. And Stephen is an asshole. What else is new. Hope you like it!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I enter the townhouse that evening I feel the energy has shifted. </p><p>I studied the pictures of random white, somewhat important, men, that all look the same. My head hurts and my mind races. I hope I’ll be able to remember at least half of them.</p><p>Divorce would mean a lot, not just for the magazines reputation, but for the twins as well. I can’t help, but hope she ditches the man. </p><p>He had actually talked to me, in a very inappropriate way, before, and as far as I could tell, he was more often drunk then sober. Miranda deserves better than that.<br/>
I still can’t understand why she would be with someone like him.<br/>
She could have pretty much every single man in New York. She is stunning. </p><p>The house feels cooler than usual, I try not to shiver, when I hang away her dry cleaning. </p><p>“Andrea.”, she calls me into the den, a small sitting area for guests. Small is not the right word, for the den is bigger then my whole apartment, but in comparison to the rest of the house, it’s small. </p><p>Miranda sits on her sofa, legs crossed, in one hand a cigarette, the other grabbing a glass of wine. I didn’t know she smokes.</p><p>I reach over to give her the book and wait for further instructions. </p><p>“Steven and I are getting a divorce.”, she doesn’t seem to be touch by it, or at least she’s not showing it. </p><p>“Make sure he’s not, I cannot stress this enough, attending the Benefit.”</p><p>I nod. Trying to contain my bubbling excitement. She’s leaving him.</p><p>There is a key in the door, And we both whip around. Steven stumbles into the foyer, clearly drunk. </p><p>Miranda sighs. </p><p>“Steven get out.”</p><p>“No. Miranda. I love you.”, he sways towards her. </p><p>“Don’t you remember how good I fucked you?”, his hands grab towards her. My eyes widen and she blushes deep, her left eye twitches. </p><p>I can’t help myself. I turn his sweaty body around, not caring if he stumbles and falls to death. </p><p>“I think you should go.”, I pull him with me, trying to shove him out of the door, down the hallway.</p><p>“You can’t leave me.”, he screams over his shoulder, his voice ringing in my ears.</p><p>“Oh yes I can.”, she says quietly, with her stern deep voice. </p><p>“What are you going to do. Who’s going to give it to you. No one wants you, old hag. So what are you going to do. Fuck your assistant?” He licks his lips, clearly angry. </p><p>“Did she lick your dirty cunt?”, he grabs my waist, pulling him towards me. I smell his sweat and the beer that he clearly had to much from. </p><p>That’s it. I open the door and push, as hard as I can. He stumbles and tumbles outside. </p><p>I call Roy and in minutes he is escorted of the property. I can’t help but to shake myself, I can still feel his hands on me.</p><p>Turning around to Miranda only to see her sitting a little bit sunken down, I try to regulate my breathing. Her posture is one of the best I’ve ever seen, but she had leaned back. </p><p>“Get yourself a wine glass.”</p><p>I don’t ask questions, just stumble towards the little table with the wine glasses, neatly displayed.</p><p>When I hold it out to her, she fills it to the top. </p><p>“Drink.”, she doesn’t look at me, doesn’t smile, just stares into the fireplace. </p><p>“He will pay for that.”, she finally mutters. </p><p>The wine tastes good, I drink rarely but today I down myself practically in it, finishing the glass in minutes. My vision blurs.</p><p>“Call Roy, let him drive you home. He’ll pick you up tomorrow. Don’t be late.”</p><p>She waves her hand without much energy in my direction. </p><p>Then I hear her take a deep breath. </p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>I stop dead track. Never have I in my time at this job heard her apologise. That must be impossible. I must be hard of hearing. </p><p>“It’s fine. That happens. It’s not your fault.”</p><p>I try to smile at her, but fail miserably. She nods and I leave, stumbling into my bed. </p><p>I text her, probably because I’m tipsy. </p><p>*ill call the key services, they’ll exchange your locks.*</p><p>Then I pass out. </p><p>The next day I enter the car fully expecting it to be empty. I nearly scream when she moves her head and looks at me. </p><p>“Are you going to sue him.”, she asks me. </p><p>“No of course not.”, it hadn’t even crossed my mind, why would I sue him. </p><p>She nods. “It would complicate my case. Therefore making it longer.”</p><p>I understand. She wants out. Now. </p><p>I look over, her silver hair shines in the sun, she looks like a goddess. </p><p>“He will pay. I won’t let him do this to other women.”, her lips are tight. Why is she telling me this. I know he’ll pay. They all did. All three didn’t get out of the relationship with money from her. The media had dubbed her the queen of disaster marriages. Brutal. </p><p>We walk in silence, tomorrow is the benefit. I have so much to do, I forget about it for a few hours. I just call people, arrange a meetings, call her stylist, ask Emily for advice. The last one didn’t work, Emily is still angry with me. I don’t blame her. </p><p>“Andrea.”, I storm into the room with her coffee, as if I was a mind reader. </p><p>She turns around in her chair, blinking in surprise at the cup of coffee right in front of her nose. </p><p>I know she’s pleased, by her eyes, She takes the coffee and turns back around. I don’t know what game this job is, but I think I’m winning. </p><p>“Emily will bring the book tonight, Andrea, go now.”, I’ve always wondered, how she can talk so quietly, but still reach our ears. She licks her lips. I’m stressed but I still get. Up. </p><p>“Coat.”, she holds out her hand. When she lets me glide her arms into the black Trenchcoat, I hold my breath. This again. </p><p>“Meet me at the town house at 3. Don’t be late.”, is it just me or is she a bit breathless.<br/>
I close the first few buttons, big ones this time. My hands slide down. </p><p>“Be dressed appropriately. I.”, she stops as I reach the button between her breasts.<br/>
Yes my breath uneven, but hers definitely hitched. I’m not imagining this. I slide my hands further, making slight contact with her body through her clothes. I don’t actually touch her, she’s hidden beneath layers and layers of clothes, but it feels like I’m taking her right here. </p><p>“That’s enough.”, she snaps, closing the last few buttons by herself and heading outside without looking at me. </p><p> </p><p>I go home. I relax. I try to at least. In my mind I play the sound of her elevated breath over and over again. Oh shit. I’m actually doing this. This is happening.</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>My phone tells me, I don’t have to go to the office. I am call everyone from home,send the stylist, the hair makeup man and the car from my place. It also takes extraordinary lengths to get ready for such a big thing. </p><p>I shower, I shave, I cream and I pluck. </p><p>When I put on my dress I start to get nervous. What if I forget a name. What if she fires me on the spot. What if she hates the dress. </p><p>When I reach the townhouse I look horrible, I assume. Checking in the mirror one last time I ring the bell. </p><p>Caroline opens the door. </p><p>“Hi Andy.”, she smiles sheepishly at me. What a sweet girl. After bringing them the Harry Potter manuscript I Actually got to know them a bit. </p><p>Caroline is the artistic one, Cass does a great deal of sports. </p><p>„How are you doing, darling.“, I smile at her and she lights up. </p><p>„Mom has been asking for you.“, she looks around. </p><p>„Im sorry about your boyfriend.“, her eyes are so big, as she takes my hand and casually pulls me with her. </p><p>„How do you know about that.“, I let myself get pulled, nearly fall over. I really can’t walk on this carpet in these killer heels. </p><p>„Mom told us.“, she doesn’t even look back while my perplex face stumbles into the living room. </p><p>„Mom Andy is here.“, she calls out. </p><p>„How many times have I told you not to use this horrible nick name.“, the calm voice comes from another room, but it’s like she’s standing right behind us. </p><p>„It’s alright Miranda.“, I say, knowing that it won’t change anything. Miranda hates nicknames. </p><p>„She’s wearing a very pretty dress.“, the small child looks up to me and beams. </p><p>„I like moms better.“, Cassidy enters the room in her usual slightly annoyed mood. She has the same look in her eyes like her mother. </p><p>Miranda’s heels click on the wooden floor. She passes through the door and I can’t help but gasp. Her dress is elegant. Nearly simple, black with a wide of shoulder construction and a sweetheart neckline. She looks ethereal, like a goddess and I recognise I have to breath when the air in my lungs spins around. </p><p>Caroline and Cassidy applause for a quick second and kiss her on the cheek, careful not to destroy the makeup. </p><p>When they leave she turns around and reveals a bare back. I marvel over the white shoulders. She looks like she is made out of marble. </p><p>We turn to the door and she glides outside. How in the hell will im manage this evening, without dying. </p><p>Before we exit the.</p><p>When we sit in the car she turn to me and looks up and down. I shiver under her eyes, they nearly freeze me. In another life she must have been a freezer with that ability. </p><p>She nods ever so slightly and I can relax a tiny bit. She likes the dress. Thank god. </p><p>„You know this is important for Runway.“, Miranda doesn’t look up from her phone. </p><p>„Yes, Miranda.“, I smile my best toothy smile and she grows quiet again. </p><p>The lights flash, as we exit the car. They take pictures of her smiling screaming questions at her, but non get an answer. </p><p>„Is it true you Are getting another divorce.“ and „Did you cheat on him.“ and my personal favourite:“did you eat him.“</p><p>I almost chuckle, but remember. This is important Andrea. So I keep my face cool and we walk up a red carpet. </p><p>No orange flowers anywhere, I’m happy to see that. She really hate the colour orange. Lord knows why. </p><p>She greets the hosts first, shaking hands, not tilting her head indicating she wants me to recall their names. </p><p>They chat for a minute, but we turn around fast. </p><p>„Stay near by my side.“, she murmurs. I step a little closer, careful not to bump into her. Her body radiates heat, I can feel it on my skin. I can’t risk getting intoxicated by her right now. I need to focus. </p><p>A man heads towards us. „This is Senator Johnson and his wife Cheryl.“, I whisper. </p><p>She greets them both with medium interest, smiling her beaming smile, chatting about nothing. She really hates smalltalk, but god she’s good at it. </p><p>A tap on my shoulder make me turn around. </p><p>„Hi Andy.“, I groan. It’s Christian. </p><p>„Christian.“, I smile but turn away. „I’m working. I cant talk right now.“ I try not to sound to pissed off. <br/>Grey eyes meet mine and I look helpless at best. </p><p>He grabs my arm but a voice cuts the air. </p><p>„If I were you I’d let her go.“, Miranda eyes him with a raised eyebrow. Not a good sign. </p><p>He stutters an apology. „I thought she wanted to talk to me.“</p><p>„Why would she want to talk to you.“, her words are final. He turns around and leaves. </p><p>„Thank you.“, I whisper. </p><p>„Men are worthless, I find them confirming this every day.“</p><p>She smiles at the next couple and we walk around the room. <br/>I lean closer each time I whisper a name. I notice The little hairs on her neck standing up, when my nose nearly brushes her ear accidentally. <br/>„Sorry.“, I whisper, but I’m not really sorry. </p><p>She looks at her watch, a sigh she wants to leave in a few minutes. </p><p>For the last couple we approach she reaches for my arm. It’s a short touch, but It grows into something so intense I can’t seem to get rid of it. Her fingers are cold, like ice. I hope she’s not freezing. I’m not, I’m burning, from the inside out. </p><p>I lean forward, my body so close to pressing against her back. </p><p>„It’s a painter. Marcus Hampton.“, my lips are so close to her ear, If I would just get a bit closer, I could bend down and kiss her long neck. </p><p>She sways backwards crashing into me for a split second, but walking away immediately, to greet the man and his wife. </p><p>When she’s finished, she turns around and I can see a slight pink on her cheeks. </p><p>„Let’s Go.“ </p><p>When we step outside, I reach into my bag. </p><p>„I brought you a shawl, are you cold?“, she shakes her head, but her eyes shoot to the wollen Chanel shawl. </p><p>I hand it to her and she pulls it around her shoulders. </p><p>„You whore.“, a deep voice reaches us. </p><p>Stephen sways up the stairs. He would have reaches us, if the guards had not overheard his words and tackled him down. </p><p>„Andrea file a complained for me.“, she steps down the stairs without even acknowledging him. „I do not want him I’m 30 feet of me.“</p><p>The car door closes and I take a good look at her. She’s not shaking but her hands tremble a bit, when she tries to open a water bottle. </p><p>I take the bottle from her hands and open  it for her. </p><p>When she chugs down the water I see her throat move. She really is scared. </p><p>On the way over to her house the car is quiet. I gather every single drop of courage I have in my and slide my hand over to hers. When I reach it, I prayed won’t kill me on the spot and start stroking her hand with my long fingers. </p><p>At first she flinches, but after the initial shock she doesn’t remover her hand. The skin is silky, soft and almost warm. </p><p>We reach her house and she has noticeably calmed down. </p><p>„Roy, Drive Andrea Home.“, she leaves the car without looking back. I watch her as she walks up the stairs to her house, with her milky skin and hair of pure silver. The moon paints blue shadows on her. I dream about it after I fall into bed.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Waking up the next day I am confused at first. Sometimes I wake up and don’t really know what year it is and where I am. The phone is ringing. </p><p>I search for the screaming device with my sleepy hands, taking the call with a lazy swipe. </p><p>„Yeah.“, my voice is slick and unused, the sleep laying thick on my vocal chords. </p><p>„Andrea, did you call the locksmith.“, Miranda’s voice is higher then I’m used to. </p><p>„Yeah I did.“, I rub my eyes with my left hand, while I turn on my back. </p><p>„Ok.“. She huffs. Why did she call me, 5 in the morning. And why isn’t she ending the call. </p><p>„Are you okay?“, I know better to expect an answer. No one asks Miranda that question. She’s always okay. Why wouldn’t she be okay. </p><p>Stephens drunk voice echoes in my ears.<br/>
Oh. </p><p>„It’s alright Miranda. The door is fully locked.“</p><p>Her breath is travelling through the speaker. </p><p>„Im on my way.“, I mumble into it and get out of bed. She ends the call without saying anything. I didn’t expect her to. </p><p> </p><p>My outfit sufferers from the quick morning, I look like a mess, when I hurry through New York, at five thirty In the morning. A few minutes later I ring her phone, she doesn’t pick up, but the door opens. </p><p>„I brought coffee.“, I hold the cup in my cold hands. She takes it, her face like stone. </p><p>She looks like shit in her grey robe, wrapped around her slender body, deep dark circles under her eyes. </p><p>Well as much like shit you can look, when you are Miranda.</p><p>„He called me last night.“, her voice is steadier then I thought it would be. </p><p>„I didn’t pick the phone up, so he banged on the door.“</p><p>She sighs, sipping her coffee.<br/>
She looks so vulnerable, right here sitting on a stool next to the kitchen island. </p><p>„Did you eat breakfast?“, I’m shocked by the question. I never eat breakfast, so I shake my head. </p><p>She sighs again, deeper, airier.<br/>
„You girls don’t understand the importance of breakfast. In a pan she cracks two eggs and she cuts a piece of watermelon. Her hands move like a dance around the kitchen. </p><p>„Here.“, she shoves it towards me. The eggs are devine. I don’t know if it’s because they are probably organic and the hens are fed pure gold, or because she made this for me. </p><p>„Your Body will thank me for that.“, her eyes are glued to me eating. </p><p>„When you are as old as I am, you’ll notice it.“, she looks does, her silver hair falling down into her face. </p><p>„You are not old.“, I protest and scrunch my nose, this Miranda is weirding me out </p><p>„So Young and naive. You are what, twenty?“, she snorts. </p><p>„Im twentyfive.“, I swallow the last piece of egg and hold her eyes. </p><p>She turns around, now looking outside, I can now see her perfect straight nose. </p><p>„I wish I could go back to that time. I would have done so many things differently.“</p><p>I do not know what was in that coffee, but my ears don’t play me wrong. She really is talking about herself. I don’t dare to say anything. </p><p>Suddenly she snaps out of it, looking at me, like I’m a stranger, which, to her I am. </p><p>„I have an important meeting today.“, oh right, the meeting with irv, I nearly forgot.</p><p>„I will wear the Dior dress today.“, she jerks her head and I follow her. The Dior is a dress I accumulated a while ago, that can only be closed by another person. The corset laces in the back. </p><p>She leads me into a room double the size of my apartment and I sit on a chair. She pulls the delicate dress out of a door and leaves with it. My heart races like a horse. </p><p>What is this. What the hell is happening. </p><p>She comes back, with the dress on, except for the corset part. Miranda holds her arms out and I step to her. </p><p>„Tightly.“, she murmurs. </p><p>I gulp. And start to lace, it’s harder then you would think to lace someone in. Her waist was already tiny, but when I’m halfway through it’s about as small as my entire thigh. </p><p>„Tighter.“, she holds onto the chair. </p><p>I pull again and again. </p><p>„Tighter.“, she repeats. Her voice somehow raspy. My fingers shake, as I pull for the last time and tie a bow. It looks surreal. Like a painting. She steps towards a mirror, admiring herself.</p><p>„This dress was made for me.“, she smiles for the first time in the morning and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look better. Her face is flushed a tiny bit and her eyes sparkle. </p><p>„Ill go and do my makeup.“, she informs me. </p><p>Im bold today, maybe because she had shared something personal on her own. </p><p>„Can I watch?“, I ask, as soon as I do I hope it doesn’t reach her ears. </p><p>She considers it, for a moment. </p><p>„Why not.“, she nods, her arms smooth her dress and in a trance I follow her into her bathroom. </p><p>She does her makeup like she does anything else, with slender fingers and perfectly. She pads her eyelids with a Creme of some sorts, she brushes blush over her skin and I can’t stop watching her. </p><p>„Stop staring.“, she opens her mouth to apply her mascara. </p><p>„I can’t.“, I whisper. </p><p>She doesn’t look back after that, just finishes and turns around. I sit on a chair, I’ve never seen a chair that luxurious in a bathroom, and lower my eyes. </p><p>She comes closer. </p><p>„You need a more pink lipstick.“, she whips away my lipstick with force and with precision she looks for another one. </p><p>„This will suit your lips far better.“, I just stand there, like a fish on dry land. </p><p>She grabs my chin and drags a velvety lipstick across my mouth. </p><p>„Better.“, she says, as if to herself, and steps back. I feel like my whole body is on fire. </p><p>She takes one last look into the mirror And we leave. </p><p>As soon as we arrive at the office her manners complete change. Her bossy tone startles me at first.<br/>
The protesters habe completely vanished, but people stare nevertheless. She looks devine and she knows it. </p><p>When she leaves for her meeting I’m so stressed two lines have built on my forehead. </p><p>„Emily prepare to go to the 3 o’clock with me“, she snaps. Emily looks smug, when she shuffles her papers into a stack of neat notes. </p><p>„Not so much mommy’s favourite now, are we?“, she throws over her shoulder when Miranda has vanished. </p><p>I smile at the tube of lipstick, I find on my desk. </p><p>The meeting must have been great, her mood had improved by miles, she seems nearly happy, when she comes back. </p><p>„Andrea, coat.“ I jump with the coat, and she steps into the room Emily and I share. </p><p>Emily glares as I leap forward. She wouldn’t expect me to do that in front of her right?</p><p>Wrong. She holds her arms wide. My hands shake as I close the buttons as fast as I can. </p><p>„Slowly.“, she murmurs, so loud I can hear it, but Emily not. </p><p>I slow down and my face burns. </p><p>She leaves the building with a spring in her step.<br/>
That must have been one hell of a victory, I think to myself, as I press my legs together under my table. Emily doesn’t talk to me for the remaining day.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well this is going well for Andy. Let me know what you think!</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. 8</h2></a>
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    <p>„Six.“, Nigel calls me that night. </p><p>„We Are going out.“, he orders me. I’m used to orders so I pack my wallet and basically run over to a bar near nigels place. </p><p>„She what?“, he chuckles. </p><p>„She makes me close her coats.“, I am quite tipsy at this point, I’m sure to regret this the next morning. </p><p>„And I had to lace her into the corsets she wore yesterday.“, I take another sip of my drink. I bubble with laughter and giddiness. </p><p>„Six, this is so weird.“, Nigel looks at me in disbelief. </p><p>„Although, I remember her mentioning something.“, he taps his chin. </p><p>I prop my heavy head up on my hand and look at him with admiration. Nigel truly was the only one I could trust at this point. All of my other friends hadn’t called me back, after me and Nate broke up, and I’m not sure if I wanted them to. </p><p>„She said something about a summer fling in the 70s.“, Nigel stirs his drink and smirks. </p><p>„I always had through it was a man, but something in her eyes had looked differently.“</p><p>Suddenly I remember the picture. The girl In her arms had looked so happy. She had looked so happy.</p><p>„Nigel what do I do.“, it feels so heavy Right there. </p><p>„I don’t know kid. I don’t know.“, he shakes his head. </p><p>As if on cue my phone rings. </p><p>„Oh shit. It’s her.“, I panic only a bit, as I stumble outside the bar. </p><p>„Miranda hi. Everything alright?“, without thinking I already start to walk toward her house. </p><p>„I want pizza.“, I freeze dead in track. She wants what. </p><p>„Alright, ill call the ritz.“, my brain already is not working on full capacity, so when she speaks to me in a low voice I can’t focus. </p><p>„I don’t want fancy pizza.“, oh god she sounds drunk. And I’m drunk. </p><p>„Ill get you Pizza Hut then.“, I whisper, so no one can hear the sin I just told her. </p><p>She groans as she ruffles something. </p><p>My heart rates doubles. Oh god what is she doing. </p><p>„Any preferences?“, my voice is squeaky, even higher than I’m used to. </p><p>Her breath hitches. </p><p>„Yes. I do have preferences.“, she snarls. Why is her voice so deep, so husky. </p><p>„What are they.“, I gulp hard, nearly falling down, as I rush towards the pizza places.</p><p>„I like it.“, she shifts again and I can hear her smirking, „with double cheese.“</p><p>I groan. She’s a cat and I’m definitely the mouse in whatever this is. </p><p>When I ring the bell to the townhouse I’m shaking a bit. In my hand is a hot pizza carton and a bottle of wine, I thought she might like it. </p><p>„Here you go.“, I shove it towards her and without looking at her I turn around. </p><p>„Andrea, why don’t you join me.“, she stands on top of the stairs, looking down and I feel like she’s a goddess and I’m her pet. </p><p>„Okay.“, My voice cracks. </p><p>She leads me down the hall, I step behind her, her hips sway in her simple lilac wollen dress. </p><p>When we sit there is a nearly feral look in her eyes. She eyes the pizza like a lion eyes a gazelle. </p><p>Im about to whiteness this nature spectacle. </p><p>Her first bite seems to be heavenly. Morning out loud her eyes flutter shut and I think I might be coming on the spot. This is beyond sexual. </p><p>„This is So Good.“, she licks her lips between bites. I open the bottle of wine and turn to get a glass. I won’t be able to handle this without a glass In my hands. </p><p>When she moans again, I take her in. Her long legs tucked under her body, her head thrown back, her eyes closed. If I didn’t know better I’d be sure this was a sex scene. </p><p>When she has finished the pizza she calms down. </p><p>„That’s all.“, she looks me straight into the eyes and I leave.</p><p>Im wet and confused and drunk. Roy drives me home, but I’m not even listening to him blabbering about his children. My mind is long gone, the only instinct, to drive my fingers deep into myself and make me come.</p><p>It takes all of my strength, not to do it right in the car, and when I get home I don’t make it to the bed. Right in the hallway I drive myself crazy. Her eyes looking at me, as I imagine her saying:“come for me.“</p><p>The next day my back hurts, my hand hurts, but I still feel like I glow, from the inside out, as I slide next to her in the car.</p>
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